


Water, Wood and Stone

by Zdenka



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Childhood, Doriath, First Age, Gen, Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-04
Updated: 2014-10-04
Packaged: 2018-02-19 20:59:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2402687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zdenka/pseuds/Zdenka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elwing makes a friend in the woods of Doriath.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Water, Wood and Stone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elvenwanderer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elvenwanderer/gifts).



> Thanks to Hyarrowen for beta-reading.

Elwing sat by the river, tossing stones into the water. Usually the river’s voice spoke to her of calm and peace, but today she was vexed and did not wish to listen. Her older brothers had taken advantage of their superior height and longer legs to outdistance her in the forest, and they only laughed when she called to them to wait. She finally gave up the chase, hot and out of breath, and dropped down in the grass. The breeze by the river was pleasantly cool, at least. The trees pressed less closely together here, and the river reflected the blue of the sky between swaying branches. Elwing let her feet dangle in the water and wiggled her toes, watching a school of small silvery fishes dart away to avoid her.

She tossed another small stone into the water. As if in echo, another stone followed it a moment later – one that she had not thrown – but this one skipped across the river before disappearing with a gurgle.

Elwing turned around, her eyes widening in surprise. A woman was standing on the bank behind her. She wore a simple, calf-length dress of brown and green, its patterns reminding Elwing of moss and bark. She ducked her head when she saw Elwing looking at her. “Daughter of Dior.”

“How did you make the stone do that?” Elwing asked curiously. It seemed a marvelous thing to her that a stone could dance across the surface of the water. “My name is Elwing,” she added.

“I am Nellas.” She knelt and took another stone, then cast it into the river. It skipped five times before sinking out of sight.

“Will you show me how?” Elwing persisted.

Nellas nodded. She pulled two more stones from the river bank and handed one to Elwing. “Choose a flat stone, not too large and heavy. Hold it between your thumb and forefinger, so—” She adjusted Elwing’s grip on the stone. Nellas rose to her feet, drew her wrist back, and threw the stone outward with a flicking motion. She motioned for Elwing to stand beside her.

Elwing tried her best to copy Nellas’s actions, but the stone merely sank into the water. She felt her lip quiver.

“Throw it closer to the water’s surface,” Nellas said. She demonstrated the proper angle. Elwing tried again. The stone skipped. She laughed aloud and clapped her hands in delight. Nellas smiled and flung her own stone lightly from her hand. 

Elwing eagerly gathered more stones and set herself to practicing. At last her stone would skip at least once every time, though she could not get as many bounces as Nellas. “Now I can do something that my brothers don’t know how to do,” Elwing said triumphantly.

Nellas smiled. “It is not an Elvish game, I think. You are not the first child to wander beside this river. I learned it from one mortal child and taught it to another. But they are gone now,” she said more quietly.

“Where did they go?” Elwing asked.

Nellas looked into the distance. “Away,” she said. “Beyond the borders of Doriath. And then - I do not know.” She took another stone. It skipped seven times across the water before sinking.

Elwing lay on her back in the grass. “I was born outside of Doriath,” she said. “But I don’t remember it well. There was a waterfall, I think. I remember the sound of it, and my father singing beside it. He does not sing so often now.”

“It is not easy to be a king,” Nellas said. “It is not strange if his heart is not as light as when he dwelt among the rivers of Ossiriand. And perils press closer, even here behind the Girdle.”

“What perils?” Elwing asked curiously.

“The forest to the north is growing darker,” Nellas said with a troubled expression. “Creatures from Nan Dungortheb have begun to test the barrier on nights when the moon is hidden. They cannot pass, not yet. But the Girdle weakens. I had thought the King and Queen knew of it. If they do not, Elwing, then you must tell them.”

“Why don’t you come to Menegroth and tell them, if it’s important?” Elwing asked.

Nellas shook her head quickly. “I do not go into Menegroth,” she said. “Not unless there is great need. Fair as the halls are, the stone seems to close in on me, and when I walk among crowds of people I cannot catch my breath.” She tilted her head upward to watch a songbird flitting from branch to branch. “The birds used to carry messages to Melian, and I would tell them if something seemed amiss. But now—” 

She fell silent. Elwing twisted grass stems together between her fingers. Melian was only a name to her. But she knew – everyone always said – that no matter what happened outside the borders, Doriath was safe. “The Girdle can’t really weaken,” she said. “Can it? If Melian was so powerful.”

Nellas gave a shrug of her shoulders and a quick twist of her head, as if shaking off water. The motion made her loose hair sway back and forth. “Would you like to climb a tree?” she asked abruptly.

When Elwing nodded, Nellas set her foot to a broad beech and scaled the trunk as easily as a squirrel. She leaned down and held out her hand to Elwing. With Nellas’s help, Elwing scrambled up after her and settled herself comfortably on a sturdy branch. She could see far over the forest, the river twining into the distance like a thread of silver. “Where does the river go?” she wondered suddenly.

“It flows into the Sirion,” Nellas said, “which is a greater river. And then through many woods and meadows to the Great Sea.”

The Sea! There was something wonderful in the very word, like a far-off trumpet call. “What is the Sea like, Nellas?” she asked.

Nellas shook her head. “I have never seen it,” she said. “Nor do I intend to. These woods are my home, and I have no wish to leave them.” 

Elwing swung her foot back and forth. “Doriath is very beautiful,” she said loyally. “There cannot be a more beautiful place in all the world.” Nellas did not seem to disagree. They sat together in friendly silence until the sun began to set.

What she had said was true, Elwing thought. The woods of Doriath were very beautiful. Every tree was dear to her, and every bend of the river. And yet as she walked back to Menegroth that evening in the twilight, she found herself murmuring: _The river flows to Sirion, and Sirion flows to the Sea._


End file.
